Arts Reviews

Andrew Lambirth on how the cult of youth can lead to the neglect of distinguished older artists One of the least endearing traits of our age is youth worship. I can understand that advertisers might need to target a large and gullible audience suddenly and unaccountably blessed with disposable income (or should that be credit?), but to attribute wisdom or originality to youth is a rash act indeed. The attention paid to young artists in recent decades has grown increasingly disproportionate, for no good reason apart from the follow-my-leader media circus which keeps their antics before an increasingly bored and bewildered (if not downright cynical) public. Meanwhile, the invariably more

After many years writing about my enthusiasms, I’m still fascinated by the relationship between expectation and actual enjoyment. After many years writing about my enthusiasms, I’m still fascinated by the relationship between expectation and actual enjoyment. How often have we seen a film everyone has been raving about, and been vaguely and obscurely disappointed? Or read a book of which we expected nothing, and loved it to pieces? My most complex relationship of this sort is with the CDs I have bought but haven’t played yet. They sit in a drawer in my desk, silently berating me for not having put them on as soon as I got home. It’s

’Tis the season to be jolly — in spite of the gloom outside and the torrents of rain. ’Tis the season to be jolly — in spite of the gloom outside and the torrents of rain. But how do you banish the winter ghouls, put on a mask of good cheer and go forth beaming into the pre-Christmas crowds? Radio Three has come up with a possible help-all, by launching its Sing Hallelujah! campaign just as the days shorten into dreary half-light. So far the station has signed up almost 350 amateur choirs nationwide who at some time between now and Christmas will be performing Handel’s exhilarating chorus from Messiah.

Firsts Linbury Studio Theatre Gnosis Sadler’s Wells Theatre Funky is not normally a word used to describe the cultural activities at the Royal Opera House. But that adjective encapsulates the essence of Firsts, a showcase of different performing talents, now in its seventh year. Funkiness is indeed what greeted spectators last week at the opening of the 2009 edition, once they had descended into the cheerful vaults of the Linbury Studio Theatre. Multitalented Matt Hennem interacted with the incoming public, by dancing among them with his gravity-defying, mesmerising crystal ball. His elegant, well-choreographed evolutions and improvisations set the tone for the rest of the evening, thus becoming the prelude to

Cherevichki Royal Opera Tolomeo English Touring Opera, Cambridge Semele Royal Academy of Music The week’s operatic rarity was Tchaikovsky’s Cherevichki, inaccu-rately translated as The Tsarina’s Slippers. It is an adaptation of the Gogol story ‘Christmas Eve’, and is slightly more familiar in Rimsky-Korsakov’s version, which was mounted in a spirited production at ENO in 1988. Though I never thought I’d say so, the Rimsky score turns out to be considerably more engaging, certainly more suited to his temperament, and his flair for orchestral colour. Tchaikovsky was devoted to his own opera, which had a mild success as Vakula the Smith, and which he subjected to extensive revision. Some ardent Tchaikovskians,

One day back in 2007 I sat down in a mood of bitter rancour and rapidly sketched out an unpremeditated draft setting of Psalm 39, that text unmatched for the utterance of such dark states — ‘my heart was hot within me …man walketh in a vain shadow…O spare me a little, that I may recover my strength before I go hence and be no more seen …’. One day back in 2007 I sat down in a mood of bitter rancour and rapidly sketched out an unpremeditated draft setting of Psalm 39, that text unmatched for the utterance of such dark states — ‘my heart was hot within me